Dreaming is Free
This post title has ADHD written all over it, but stick with me. I'll keep the loquaciousness to a minimum. If you're Googling "Loquaciousness" don't feel bad. I overheard that word at a party and couldn't wait to use it in a sentence. Then I realized - I was that L Word. And hilarity ensued. You should've been there. I killed.But back to this post.When the hell did mid September happen? Shit. I have things to do. A book to finish. Power meetings with influential networking hipsters who can change my life by signing on the dotted line after accepting my hilarious pitch of my oh-so-fabulous story.Dreaming is free, people. Just ask Debbie Harry. Please Google her too, kids. And do yourself a favor - dance naked to Heart of Glass at least once in your life. Alone in your room is fine. But not in front of any mirror. Just dance. And while you're at it, blast "Dreaming." Because it really is free.What made me think of dreaming out loud tonight? I'm glad you asked.A couple of hours ago I received a text message from an old sister-friend from our home town of O'ahu, Hawaii (let's call her B). She and I both live in Southern California now, but have not seen one another in nearly 20 years, can you believe? We reconnected through the marvels of modern technology and plan to meet up soon for a long overdue brunch. But back to her text. I was matter of fact-ly very tongue-in-cheeky mentioning to her that I had a book to finish because I'm dreaming big - her reply was priceless and one I just had to share:
"Don't stop until it's done! Then dream up another dream - that way you're always livin' the dream."
It's been a while, but that quote is so her. Beautiful. Positive. Inspiring. The depression, diseased part of my brain thinks she's a bitch. I happen to adore her. I win.B has always been this stunningly beautiful light, and her energy is equally pure and real. Whatever she's on, I want some. I kid. Those drugs days are over, kids. I know she's high on life and love. B just reminded me I've gotta get me some of that - clinical depression be damned.If only snapping out of a dark space of wanting to evaporate were as easy as reconnecting with a beautiful soul. Sometimes staying in touch with loved ones, even in the thick of isolation reminds us how much beauty there is in this world. The fact is, when wrestling with clinical depression some days that actually does work. Other days, not so much. Sure, there are medications that help kick-start our serotonin and dopamine receptors, but even that sometimes isn't enough.Today was hard. I mean really tough. Because of a morning trigger (something superfluous other than that it hit a button I've been trying to avoid), I found myself in a downward spiral of despair that only the fantasy of not wanting to live surrounded my psyche for the better part of the day. Was I ever in danger of taking my life? No. But here's the thing about clinical depression. There's a huge difference between not wanting to live and actually taking the steps to assure you don't. One of my favorite authors, Auguesten Burroughs maps it perfectly:
“If you believe suicide will bring you peace, or at the very least just an end to everything you hate - you are displaying self-caring behavior. You are still able to actively seek solutions to your problems. You are willing to go to great lengths to provide what you believe will be soothing to yourself. This strikes me as optimistic.”
I cling to these words. They are my life raft even when I'm the one puncturing the holes and I feel myself sinking. I remember - most of us with depression don't really want to die. We just don't want the pain.Dreaming is free. 
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